For Everything There is a Season
by Caladria101
Summary: [DanielSha're] ...And a time to every purpose under the heavens. He had dedicated his life to serving their gods, in a way, whilst they had been forced to toil.


Especial thanks to Jenniferjf with this one… as well as her standard beta, she put up with me whining _all the way through this_.

o…O…o

The night that Jack O'Neill and Kawalksy set foot through the Stargate, returning to Earth, the Abydonians threw a feast in Daniel's honour. This time he recognised the taste of goat, a young beast in its prime that he had watched being slaughtered. As the chatter around him grew, in a language that he was too novice in to understand in this setting, he smiled, and nodded, and felt more alone than he had done since he had found himself without family at eight. He bashfully accepted Ska'ara's adoration because he had no diplomatic words to turn it from him, and withstood Kasuf's awe at his victory over the all-powerful beings who had dominated the lives of every single person that sat around him. Sha're, more demure and respectable by her people's standards in this very public setting, sat by his left, eyes downcast and only able to help him with the most grievous of his blunders.

He listened to them, trying to take in single voices of a jumble of an unfamiliar language and inflection, and heard of the god's wrath, and the god's injustice, and the wonder of the strange staff weapons the strangers had left. And he saw the boys out of the corner of his eyes, crowded around Ska'ara as he demonstrated the amazing magic that could make flame appear at will. And he heard Sha're's brother talk of the stranger O'Neill with glowing pride, seeing only the brave hero and not the bruised and battered man that Daniel had caught a glimpse of.

He had to wonder what reception would be given to him by West, by Catherine. He hoped that Jack would have time to pull Catherine aside and tell her the real truth – he didn't want her thinking that she had sent him to his death on a planet that was so far away from home. Or perhaps she realised that he had nothing to stay for. Perhaps she had spoken to Professor Jordan, to Stephan, perhaps to Sarah and realised that he'd cut off his ties with the academic world – with his life – before she had waved him into that taxi.

And all he could compare with these people were the hours spent researching, by choice, their lives and habits, and dusty nights like this that he had strived to go on. He had dedicated his life to their gods as surely as they had been forced to serve them. They were free and he, surrounded by this much living history and undocumented archaeology that would never be added to the pool of scholarly knowledge, had never been more fettered. Even if his sources would never have been believed, even if academia never forgave him for suggesting the preposterous…

He had never felt so alone in his life.

Especially after the meal, when Sha're had patiently taken him to one side and tried to explain through his imperfect language skills exactly why she and Kasuf had had to smooth things over with the most prosperous goat herder in the village, and painstakingly tooth-combed the way in which he should have behaved.

Especially when her last words were, "If you get these right, my Daniel, no one will mind about your _little_ wrongdoings." The light of forgiveness in her eyes stung, but he had no choice but to take what he could get.

Nine days later she threw a sandal at his head and banned him from her bed for laughing with a woman on a Friday evening.

o…O…o

She found him three hours after sunrise in the temple of her old gods, tracing his fingers reverently over the markings there that so few understood. He did not see her, too immersed in the land of her ancestors to take note of the living.

Her hand covered his on the wall, and he looked at her, blinking from too many hours of staring at a dim wall, a tallow candle his only light.

"Sha're," he said, clearly surprised at his presence though she had no clue as to why. He had done wrong, and he had paid for his transgression. It was so simple for him to understand and yet he did not. She decided to not explain.

"It says, 'and then the god subdued his brothers, taking their queens as his own and gaining dominion over their worlds and slaves. And he ruled over the stars. He was the greatest of the gods, and none dared challenge him. The strong ones, the guards who slew thousands, feared his might and served him, the many peoples he had as his were spread far and wide, and he ruled them all'." Her voice carried the lilt of one telling a tale of old, one learnt in childhood, and she looked at him, confused.

"But the god is gone, my Daniel, you defeated him. What matters this? That you are meant to be watching the goats matters," she reminded him, pointedly. She had already persuaded Ska'ara to watch the herd in exchange for an unspecified favour of his choosing. And her brother would make her pay dearly for asking him to take up a task that was child's task, and now below him. He was a man by their standards and he demeaned himself only for his sister and her husband, who had defeated their gods and remained with them.

Her husband rubbed his eyes with one hand. He had not slept, she knew.

"Goats… right," he said. "I just need to…" He trailed off, waving his hand at the markings.

She knew that this was important to him for reasons unknown to her. And yet…

"Goats," she said pointedly. "Do not shame our household again by shirking your tasks." Though she loved him dearly, she grew tired of explaining away his inexplicable actions to a people who viewed him as their hero still, but incredibly eccentric. She was just relieved that this seemed to be expected for god-slayers.

He looked helplessly at the wall, then back to her. She could see his desire to remain, but she knew that he must learn. The moment he acquiesced, she knew. And rewarded him with a kiss that left them both gasping.

He whispered her name and she untangled herself reluctantly from him. "Go," she told him, more good-humouredly than before. "You must face my brother, who is doing your work as well as his own."

He smiled at her then, that happy smile that she had only seen when they were alone. "And I'll see you tonight?" he asked, pressing another kiss to her lips.

"If my brother lets you live and you do not flirt with _another_ woman, then yes, my husband."

o…O…o

He got a verbal kicking from Kasuf, who appeared to have decided that no matter whether Daniel had freed him from the gods, he wasn't going to shame Sha're any more; he was going to act as a proper husband should and provide for his family. Then he cuffed Daniel around the ear and stalked off.

Daniel watched him go, not having caught half of the fast, angry words, and then found Sha're grinding flour with the other women. He crouched down beside her, not seeing the scandalised looks of the other women who did not quite believe that a man was trespassing here, no matter his previous great deeds. At all other times they barely looked at him, their awe was so great, but here? This was practically sacrosanct and any other man would have fled by now, tail between legs like a whipped cur.

"Have I angered your father?" he asked, trying to help but fumbling clumsily with the bag. Sha're stopped her work, took it off him and expertly did what he had been trying to do before returning to her whetstone.

"You spend your time with the dead, not the living, my husband," she replied lowly, trying to keep their conversation private from the straining ears around them as she continued her work.

"Sha're…" He paused, trying to think how best to describe it. "The symbols in your temple are the greatest discovery that I have ever seen. They could represent the culmination of my life's work, and they could validify my theories once and for all! They could prove that beings came through the Stargate – the Chapp'ai - on Earth and helped to mix and dilute the different ancient cultures on Earth and spread them _here_. Your ancestors once walked on my planet and helped to shape _my_ culture and many others too. They could discredit half the theories that are being thrown around in academia and completely disprove even more established ones!"

"But O'Neill has said that you are dead, yes? And he has buried his Chapp'ai?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Do you wish you had returned to your home, my husband?" she asked, and looked at him. "I know you find it difficult here sometimes." And the only time he'd ever seen hurt like that in her eyes was when she thought she had not been good enough for him, and he kicked himself for hurting her when she was everything that was good about this planet, and his reason for continuing.

"I would not wish a life without you," he told her fervently. "You _are_ my life." Which was true, really. He had no life on Earth he'd want to go back to, and she was the only Abydonian who saw Daniel and not the god-slayer. "But even if I can never tell the people of my birth," he said, stumbling around a term that there were no words for in this language, "I must study these. Not for anyone else. But so that I may know – that _someone_ may know. I… I don't know how to make you understand, but…" He looked at her, hopefully.

She looked at him. "It is important. That is all I need to know," she told him, touching his face affectionately before returning to her work. "But… feeding our people is important, and repairing shelter is important. And the respect that my people hold you in will only last so many seasons before it turns to ire at your strangeness." She looked at him, wanting him to understand what she meant, what this meant to her.

He nodded, taking the bag from her and tying it correctly this time, placing it to one side; still not seeing the scandalised looks.

o…O…o

She caught her brother with the weapon in the predawn light, having slipped away from Daniel's side and found Ska'ara missing.

"My brother? What is it that you do?" she called, watching the weapon carefully. This was the weapon that had defeated the god, and therefore she was wary. She had fired it, knew that it was not controllable by her, though her Daniel and O'Neill and their friends seemed to wield it with a force more deadly than a carving knife to a goat's throat. But they were not of Abydos, and she could only assume that, like the carving knife at the throat, this was a weapon that could be used effectively or stupidly.

"I will learn, like O'Neill!" he told her, fire in his eyes and admiration for the man shining through. "I will defend you and our father and Daniel."

She took it off him, carefully. She was wise enough to know that she did not know the ways of these. She was also wise enough to know that if she forbade her brother to touch it, he would anyway. He was not generally disobedient, but he was little more than a child, no matter what he thought, and children found the forbidden attractive.

She looked at him. "I would ask that you would make a promise to me, Ska'ara," she said, catching his eyes with her own, and turning his head towards her with the hand that did not hold the gun. "If you must learn to use this, then you ask Daniel to teach you how." She had seen her husband fire one of these, and she had to assume that he could at least stop her brother from killing himself. A weapon that could be used to depose a god was not one she would let her brother near lightly.

He looked defiant. "But O'Neill allowed me to!"

"Ska'ara." Only this time her tone was more firm, a sister commanding a younger brother rather than asking him.

"I will ask Daniel," he conceded eventually.

o…O…o

The heat was beginning to make the back of his neck burn as Daniel adjusted the grip of the third boy that had turned up for the impromptu firearms lesson. Ska'ara beamed at him and the boy before him tried a shaky smile, still obviously awed by him. Daniel hadn't got more than a "Yes, Daniel," or "No, Daniel," out of the boy despite having spoken to him every day that week. Kasuf stood on the by-lines, watching with interest and occasionally offering advice to Daniel on how best to teach. Daniel may be the god-slayer, but he was Kasuf's daughter's husband; Kasuf could only see his daughter's will defeat Daniel's so much before some of the awe started to wear thin, apparently, and was offering advice both good and bad with equal vigour.

Daniel had tried to tell Sha're that it was a bad idea, that the boys of the village held him in too much awe for them to be comfortable around him, or even for Daniel to be comfortable around them, but she had told him that she knew her people, and her brother's friends, and hinting but not quite saying out loud that Daniel should quit whining and get on with it.

He was just glad that they seemed to idolise Jack more than him. Half of them would spout tales of 'O'Neill' and what he had said to them, and whether he had given them a friendly clout on the shoulder or a brash, affectionate hug. The man's stature seemed to grow every time a tale was retold, and the sheer wonder that the boys held him in made Daniel almost smile.

He did try – he asked them questions, he told them of Earth, and things he had seen, and what he had discovered in the temple that they had lived next to all of their lives. He asked them about their culture and their ways and their families. And they answered him, politely, as if he were slightly mad (eccentric, he'd guess – crazy people didn't have that awe attached to them like he had). He guessed that he'd never get anywhere with them, really. He was tarnished by his association with Jack and the downfall of the Goa'uld.

o…O…o

She watched him write, saw the frown of concentration crease his forehead. He barely recognised she was there, he was so absorbed, but in truth she could not find it in herself to mind. She found his actions so strange sometimes, despite the three months he had lived among them. How he would listen to the stories that she told to the children, as enthralled as they, though he would question her afterwards and display a greater understanding after one listening than some of the elders did after many. How he could understand some of the complex ideas of her world that he had told her were so different from the ones he knew, and yet some of the courtesies that a babe in arms knew passed him by still. How he knew so much of the god, and yet, nothing at all. He was a strange contradiction, her husband, and she found him fascinating.

His movement attracted her attention from her thoughts as he checked his words, and then checked the symbols on the wall, before returning to scribbling frantically with his writing tool.

"My husband?" she asked, worry etched on her face.

He paused and looked up, startled. He had forgotten she was there in his excitement.

"It's…" He paused, struggling to grasp the words that normally came to him so easily, hands trying to articulate what his voice could not. "The Stargate… the Chapp'ai… it doesn't just go to Earth… it goes to other places! Its not a portal connecting two worlds… if I'm right, and I think I'm right… it is a portal that connects to _many _other worlds. There could be other planets like Abydos all over the galaxy, all connected by the Stargate. Ra could have taken more people from Ancient Egypt and he could have populated more than just here – he could have populated many worlds." He paused for a moment, awe and wonder as innocent as a child's spread across his face. "There could be millions of people out there that we know nothing about. They could even have come from other cultures. My theory that ancient civilisations were connected could be more right than I ever thought – a sun god is a popular concept in mythology." He had stood up by now, looking on the wall for a specific passage. "'The many peoples he had as his were spread far and wide.' They were spread far and wide on Earth, and they were spread far and wide over the galaxy! Sha're… you may not just be the descendants of the Egyptians, but of the Mayans, and the Polynesians, and who knows who else!"

"My husband?" she asked, coming to stand by him next to the wall. She recognised little of what he said and realised that what she did recognise she needed the context of the rest to understand.

Daniel gestured impatiently to the symbols on the wall. "These are all symbols, all constellations. Sha're, each and every one of these is an address to a planet! Like a phone book! You don't know what a phone book is, but never mind. Just… wow. This is amazing. This is... wow. I can't believe I didn't see this before. Seven symbols," he said, tracing them with his finger. He grinned at her, and caught her up in his arms, a rare gesture from her non-tactile Daniel. "I was right," he whispered against her, wonderingly. "I just never knew how right I was."

o…O…o

At the evening meal that night, he was distracted, mind preoccupied with the consequences of his discovery and impatiently waiting until he could talk to his father-in-law about what he had discovered and its importance. Sta'rel, one of the boys he had been teaching to fire a gun, had to ask him a question three times, growing more hesitant at each ignored attempt, until Ska'ara threw a roll at his head, unimpressed with his sister's husband and his distractedness. Daniel caught a look on Sha're's face as he threw the roll back at the boy, outwardly laughing with the rest of them at his actions but with a look of worry that could not be erased fully.

Daniel waited until Sha're had slipped into slumber that night before finding her father. The old man was taking a walk around his village, checking his village one last time before sleeping. He turned to face Daniel.

"Good Father…" Daniel began, before stopping, unsure of how to broach the subject.

"My Son," Kasuf said, eyes showing this amusement at the sudden reticence. "If you have something you wish to say, then say it, or I will not know."

"Good Father, I have a matter to discuss with you." Daniel said.

Kasuf looked at him, regarding him keenly. "It cannot be that my daughter is with child, for that would be _her_ place to tell," he mused, almost to himself, though Daniel was fairly sure that it was a warning of custom rather than any real desire to think out loud.

"It is concerned with the Chapp'ai, Good Father, not your daughter," Daniel reassured him. "I think we should unbury it," he announced, deciding that honest bluntness would get him further with this man than approaching the subject from the side

"The Chapp'ai has brought us nothing but evil gods, and yourself, my son," Kasuf said immediately, pointing out the obvious. "And O'Neill told us that he would bury his as soon as he returned through it. Uncovering it will bring us nothing but strife."

"With greatest respect, Good Father, I disagree," Daniel said carefully. Though the man was his father-in-law, he was also the _de facto_ leader of the Abydonians and his backing would require more than flights of fancy on his part. Kasuf had brought his people to a semblance of order, and, although he had utilised the awe that Daniel had commanded, as well as his very different experiences, he would still turn his favour away from Daniel's ideas if he disagreed. In other words, Daniel thought wryly, the man was as strong minded as his daughter, and what he loved in one he admired in the other, even if it was working against him this time.

Kasuf waited.

"I believe that the god left others. Others, like you. Who once were forced to serve him but are now either free, or are waiting for his return unawares. And if we can find them, I think we should." Daniel paused for a moment, trying unsuccessfully to gauge Kasuf's reaction. "I would not suggest this lightly, Good Father, or if I thought it would bring danger to your daughter or to our home."

Kasuf watched for his reaction as he asked his next question. "And where do you consider home, my son?"

Daniel couldn't be surprised at the question, nor the scrutiny. "Good Father," he said, carefully. "We have a saying on Earth… 'Home is where the heart is.' Sha're is my heart. My home is wherever she is. You are my only family. I had nothing left there and no desire to return." He looked into the older man's eyes, trying to convince him of the truth of this.

"We buried the Stargate at your request."

"I did not realise, Good Father. And I consider it wiser to admit that I was wrong than to pretend that I was right."

Kasuf nodded. "This is true." He sighed, frowning as he considered the weighty matter in front of him. "I shall consider this matter, my son. Return to my daughter."

Daniel nodded at the polite, albeit firm dismissal. "Thank you, Good Father," he said, before turning and leaving a troubled man behind him.

o…O…o

Ska'ara could almost believe that his entire life he had been moving rocks. First, when O'Neill had left, he had had to help to cover the Chapp'ai with rocks to protect them from something that worried even O'Neill. And _gods_ didn't worry O'Neill. And now… now he was helping Daniel to uncover the Chapp'ai with the rest of the young men who had been taught how to fire the weapons that his sister's husband had brought to his people.

Sometimes he wondered if those that killed gods went mad – certainly Daniel had requested he do odd things. But if Daniel was sure, then Ska'ara would do. Because it was not worth the chiding he would receive from his sister and father, even if he would much rather be doing something else.

And these rocks were not pebbles. Some of these it had taken four grown men – and Ska'ara numbered himself as one of them – to place over the giant ring. And now the same four men were trying to lift it out, as Daniel cleared rubble from around the edge and offered direction in an excited, hurried voice and Ska'ara's father offered shorter, terser orders.

His muscles screamed in process as he danced out of the way of the rock, watching it fall where he had stood only moments ago. He turned to Daniel, who was crouched by the Chapp'ai, running his fingers over the symbols with reverence. And half of him wanted still to point out that it was sacrilege, to tamper with it, and half of him wanted to beg Daniel to persuade his father to have it buried, for he and O'Neill were the only good things to come through it. But he did neither, watching the husband of his sister with much less reverence than his friends beside him, for it was difficult to keep up the awe when he knew that Daniel blinked sleepily in the morning, and that he sometimes had to be persuaded out bed by Sha're, and that alone they laughed and talked and held each other as two people who never wished to be out of the others sight.

o…O…o

Sha're felt the cold space beside her as the cool desert night sank into her bones as surely as her husband's warmth had earlier. She rested a moment, listening for her brother's and her father's breathing, deep and even, and in Kasuf's case, noisy. She slipped from her bed silently, wrapped herself against the chill and began to walk up to where she knew her husband would be.

His 'Stargate' had been replaced in the place of its former glory; though he had sworn that no gods would come to avenge Ra, she could not be so certain. She, alone of the people of Abydos, had truly seen their power. And though it was not as she had thought as a child, it was still terrifying. She had been brought back to life by their power; she could not help but be in awe of it, and fear it still.

He was, as she suspected, with the cartouche and the Chapp'ai.

"You could not wait," she guessed.

He smiled at her. "I could not wait," he agreed. "But… he made a sweeping gesture. It's interesting. It's fascinating, really, because it doesn't work. And I have absolutely no idea why." He smiled, a lop-sided affair to cover his disappointment. "Ska'ara will be irritated he hauled rocks all days with nothing to show for it," he said, drawing her close and resting his head on top of hers.

She held him. "I am sorry, my husband," she told him. "I know how you wanted to use this." And she was, mainly. Any doubts that she had concerning the god returning were overshadowed by wanting her husband to succeed and her trust in him. He had saved them once. He would not endanger them again.

He moved slightly, picking out seven symbols grouped together in his notebook and pushing them in, like the god's guards used to, like he had done to help his friends return to Earth.

"Have you tried your planet?" she asked him, releasing him a little to look him in the eye as nothing happened.

"I thought about it," he admitted. "But… if West realises that I'm not dead, or that Jack didn't blow us up? He wouldn't make the same mistake again. And as much as I want to make this work, Sha're, I would _never_ risk you. Or your people. Our people."

She nodded, satisfied with his answer, and stood by him for the remainder of the night, until her father had been and gone to tell the rest of their people, and until her husband succumbed to exhaustion and she led him home.

o…O…o

At Kasuf and Daniel's insistence, the boys that had been trained with the firearms were posted as guards, just in case. It was little more than a serious game, really, one that proved to them that they were men whilst keeping them amused as children must be, but they remained against the ever-diminishing threat that they might be needed.

Daniel himself spent less and less time with the Stargate, instead looking through the other rooms, the cartouches, the wall hieroglyphics, searching for a reason why the Stargate would not work. And yet, he still didn't dare to try Earth. The threat of West and the nuke was enough to satisfy him, and therefore Kasuf, that no matter if it would decide whether they had broken the thing – although, considering what the Earth 'Gate went through even after 1928 Daniel very much doubted that.

There had to be a _reason_ – stars didn't just move in the sky! All he had to do was find it, and alter the addresses, and then…

And then he had no idea what, but at least at the minute he had a goal to work towards. Something to achieve.

Sometimes, when a lot of the boys gathered by the Gate, he would join them, join in the laughter, and take the gentle teasing they gave him for his odd ways, even if the edge of awe never wore off with most of them. And they took him with them as the older boys showed the younger ones around their world, as the ones older than them had once done, and included Daniel in their small, meaningless, all-important rituals. And so a slightly drunken husband half carried his _very_ drunk brother-in-law home, and both were treated with no sympathy by Sha're, though she laughed privately at her husband's late admittance into adulthood.

But most of the time, he would work, either alone or with Sha're as company, holding his notes for him, asking for clarification, and asking questions he never would have dreamed of. And when she left, spending time with the other women, or with work that needed doing sorely, he would glance over expecting her to be there and allow a wistful sigh to escape.

o…O…o

Most of the time when she joined her Daniel up here, with the Chapp'ai, they did not join the boys; instead, preferring to sit quietly together as they both worked at their respective tasks. While his presence was welcomed by them as a hero and as one who was not privy to a lot of the adult conversation, a mixture of lack of interest once he thought he had figured out the nuances, and partly because he had not figured out the nuances as well as he thought he had, Sha're knew that being adult, and being female, and being with them were not three facts that sat well with them. Besides, this way she had her husband to herself without the ridiculous hero-worship that some of the boys – young and old – practiced diligently still.

She was so lost in her thoughts and her task – she was weaving – that she did not register what the sound filtering into her ears was. Nor did Daniel, until the excited shouts of the boys reached them both, and they dropped what they were doing to see if the god had returned.

A small rectangular object hit the floor. Everyone in the room reflexively flinched, but it did no harm. Daniel, predictably, was the first to reach it, his fingers picking it up and lifting it to examine. Sha're moved nearer, placing a hand on her brother's shoulder to calm him, to steady his hand on the weapon that was pointing at her husband.

Daniel turned. "It's Jack," he said, confusion and surprise warring across his features. "It has to be. No one else would have thought to send this. Except maybe Kawalsky. Or Feretti. But that's not the point. It's _Jack_. And Jack wouldn't have told them about this unless it was important. But… as far as they know, we have the 'Gate buried…"

Sha're's hand on Ska'ara's shoulder tightened. She did not know why O'Neill would wish to return, unless the leaders of her husband's planet had discovered the lie. And from what Daniel said, that way led only to misery. She did not wish for things to change. She wished, suddenly, to rebury the Chapp'ai and forget of other worlds and her husband's strange origins.

"We should inform my father of this," she said at the same time as Daniel said, "Kasuf."

After leaving Ska'ara and his friends guarding the Chapp'ai, they found him inspecting the feet of a goat which had been limping when they reached the village, although as soon as he saw their faces he released the animal, who bleated angrily as it darted back to its herd, pushing its way into the safety of the middle.

After hearing what they had to say, and inspecting the strange box for himself, her father looked Daniel in the eye. "What do they wish? These people who were once yours?"

"I don't know," Daniel admitted heavily. "I would have thought that if West was still in charge, he wouldn't mess around with Jack and tissue boxes, he'd just send another nuke on a timer or something. But… if anyone else knew that we still existed, why would they care? We have had no contact with Earth since, and as far as Jack knows, we buried the 'Gate."

Sha're looked at her husband. "Maybe O'Neill knows you better than you think," she said shrewdly.

Kasuf handed the box back to his son-in-law. "I will leave this decision to you," he told the younger man. "They were your people and you know them better than I. I only ask that you do nothing that could endanger our people."

Daniel nodded, turning the rectangle over and over in his hands before looking at his father-in-law. "Yes, Good Father. I understand."

He was quiet as they walked back, stumbling once or twice as he lost himself in thought. Sha're dared not ask him what he would do. O'Neill was his friend, and to be trusted, she knew, but the man had had a darkness to him that she did not fully trust. So they walked, he lost in his thoughts and she in hers.

Once they had checked that no further objects had been sent through the Chapp'ai, Daniel disappeared to the chamber where they had begun the afternoon, returning with his bag and finding one of his writing implements. He placed the big, black marker on the rectangle and wrote some of his writings on the side, before pulling out the white contents and burying them in his bag, underneath the other things which Sha're had never seen him use.

"My husband?" she queried.

"It says, 'Send more'," Daniel replied absently. "I needed to let Jack know that it was safe for him to come through, but if this is some kind of plot to trap us into revealing ourselves, then it needs to be non-obvious. I'm not sure if he'd recognise my handwriting, but he should realise that this has come from me and not an enemy."

"Because you write in your own tongue," Sha're surmised.

He smiled at her. "Exactly. Right, now what we need to do is dial Earth…"

As he spoke, he moved up by the dialling device that he had yet to make work apart from that one, first time when he had bid his old life farewell. Leafing through his notebook – and Sha're was relieved to know that he did not know the symbols for his planet so he could not have been dwelling on it – he pushed each part of the device, watching each marker light up with an inexplicable glow and checking each of the seven symbols – six for the address and one for the home planet, though she did not truly understand why – he pressed the central dome and her attention was wrenched to the expanding puddle that shimmered so deceptively serenely.

Daniel, not as captivated as she was, was throwing the rectangle back before she could voice a protest, if she could think of one to voice. He walked back to her slowly, wrapping his arms around her in the middle of the group of boys and resting his head against hers. "This may take a while," he said ruefully to her, breath tickling. "And I want to make a list of things for Jack to take back, if he turns up. There are things on these walls that I want someone to know, even if it's only a military bureaucrat."

He turned to the boys. "If we are in the next chamber, you will call us if the wormhole opens again? I do not want to take any chances that this is a trick."

Sha're caught her husband's sleeve as he prepared to leave, his mind already on his learnings. "Now we wait?" she asked.

He smiled reassuringly. "Now we wait."

o…O…o

Kasuf would not have believed the story if he had not seen it for himself. The gods returned, his people injured, and all of his children gone. In one short day he had lost everything of the past year, and everything of his wife. And his one comfort was that Daniel was searching for Sha're.

This time there was no Ska'ara to help to bury the Chapp'ai. This time there was no Sha're bringing refreshment, and becoming caught up in her husband without truly realising it. It had been a long time since Kasuf had felt that way, but he delighted that his daughter had found it when he had believed she would be a sacrifice to the god's pleasure. He had regretted that, but to keep his people safe he thought he had but little choice to sacrifice his child. And instead… Instead he had gained a son who was as wise as he was stupid.

He was too old to lose a child, let alone three, but the knowledge that those that freed him from the slavery of generations were seeking them out in the stars sustained him. O'Neill was a man of honour – he had never promised what he could not do. Nor had Daniel, and Daniel had promised to return with his daughter in one year.

He turned and issued an order tersely, to move a stone to better cover the centre of the ring, once again laid low and humbled before him. For one year he would take strength from his people, and his people's need for him. For one year they would be safe from gods and men. And then Daniel would bring his children home.


End file.
